Monthly Archives: January 2012

Creativity: Invoking the Gods or Madness

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Looks like the source of Creativity has been an ongoing discussion for ages. Poets in ancient Greek and Roman times invoked gods to assist in their writing. (Can’t say much has changed there.) What I found fascinating is that many believe psychotic-ism causes creativity. Even Aristotle claimed that there was never a genius without a tincture of madness. And, that’s a direct quote.


Makes me feel rather distinguished as a creative being–though I am not crazy enough to consider myself genius.

There has been active debate on whether creative genius is dependent on mental illness or insanity. This debate continues further by stating that madness alone cannot suffice as Source for creativity. Nay, nay. An openness to experience, intelligence and wisdom complete the mysterious formula. They are actually writing papers on the subject. The bottom line: Creative people make creativity a way of life.

We can all name artists, musicians, writers, scientists, etc. who inspire us with their fascinating and divergent thinking. (Look at our own Basil Sands, for goodness sake.) The argument for creative personalities presented by Hal Lancaster during the late 90’s in The Wall Street Journal stated six basic qualities exist:

1. Keen powers of observation.
2. Restless curiosity.
3. An ability to recognize issues that others miss.
4. An ability to generate numerous ideas.
5. Persistently questioning the norm.
6. A talent for seeing established structures in new ways.

Do you see yourself in any or all of the above? I do, which is fun. But, what really appeals to me is the recurring theme of madness in creative beings. After all, if you’re considered a little crazy you need no excuses for your behavior. I like that.

So, I am trying out my creative juices in a new location for awhile. I am writing to you from Santiago, Chile today. My Muse is having a field day. We’re eating foreign foods, seeing exotic places and conversing in my pitiful Spanish as much as possible. I’m getting funny looks and lots of laughs. So, I’m pretty sure I am doing something right!

Once again, which of the 6 traits above is your strongest? You’re favorite? Inquiring minds want to know!

Cao for now!



Creativity: Invoking the Gods or Madness

Posted on by


Looks like the source of Creativity has been an ongoing discussion for ages. Poets in ancient Greek and Roman times invoked gods to assist in their writing. (Can’t say much has changed there.) What I found fascinating is that many believe psychotic-ism causes creativity. Even Aristotle claimed that there was never a genius without a tincture of madness. And, that’s a direct quote.


Makes me feel rather distinguished as a creative being–though I am not crazy enough to consider myself genius.

There has been active debate on whether creative genius is dependent on mental illness or insanity. This debate continues further by stating that madness alone cannot suffice as Source for creativity. Nay, nay. An openness to experience, intelligence and wisdom complete the mysterious formula. They are actually writing papers on the subject. The bottom line: Creative people make creativity a way of life.

We can all name artists, musicians, writers, scientists, etc. who inspire us with their fascinating and divergent thinking. (Look at our own Basil Sands, for goodness sake.) The argument for creative personalities presented by Hal Lancaster during the late 90’s in The Wall Street Journal stated six basic qualities exist:

1. Keen powers of observation.
2. Restless curiosity.
3. An ability to recognize issues that others miss.
4. An ability to generate numerous ideas.
5. Persistently questioning the norm.
6. A talent for seeing established structures in new ways.

Do you see yourself in any or all of the above? I do, which is fun. But, what really appeals to me is the recurring theme of madness in creative beings. After all, if you’re considered a little crazy you need no excuses for your behavior. I like that.

So, I am trying out my creative juices in a new location for awhile. I am writing to you from Santiago, Chile today. My Muse is having a field day. We’re eating foreign foods, seeing exotic places and conversing in my pitiful Spanish as much as possible. I’m getting funny looks and lots of laughs. So, I’m pretty sure I am doing something right!

Once again, which of the 6 traits above is your strongest? You’re favorite? Inquiring minds want to know!

Cao for now!



Ebook Prices

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By Clare Langley-Hawthorne



I just saw a recent analysis by Booklr of the top 100 Amazon Kindle books versus the top 100 Barnes & Noble Nook titles in respect of their relative price points. The results are, I think pretty interesting for anyone considering ‘indie’ publishing, and in demonstrating the role price may play in different e-book ‘markets’. 


According to the Booklr survey 35% of the top 100 books on Kindle were free or priced under $2 compared to 0% for the Nook. 61% of the top 100 books on Kindle were priced under $6 versus 39% on the Nook. In the higher price bracket, the results are also pretty different with 27% of books on Kindle priced above $10 versus 40% on the Nook. 


These results suggest that customers have quite different book buying habits in these two ‘e-reader’ markets. It also points to a potential new culture for the Kindle in which customers tend to buy what is free or less than $2. As an author, this signals to me that if I was to go the ‘indie’ route, I would need to consider price very, very carefully indeed. 


The Booklr analysis indicates that the average price for a Kindle top 100 e-book is $6.48 compared with $8.94 for the Nook – which gives us a rough gauge of the price differential between customers for both platforms and opens up the debate over the impact of free and cheap (99c) e-books on overall pricing trends. 


So for all your authors considering the indie route, how are you approaching the issue of price? If you are traditionally published, what kind of price point has your publisher set for your e-book? And how much influence do you think Amazon is going to have on driving e-book prices down?

Ebook Prices

Posted on by

By Clare Langley-Hawthorne



I just saw a recent analysis by Booklr of the top 100 Amazon Kindle books versus the top 100 Barnes & Noble Nook titles in respect of their relative price points. The results are, I think pretty interesting for anyone considering ‘indie’ publishing, and in demonstrating the role price may play in different e-book ‘markets’. 


According to the Booklr survey 35% of the top 100 books on Kindle were free or priced under $2 compared to 0% for the Nook. 61% of the top 100 books on Kindle were priced under $6 versus 39% on the Nook. In the higher price bracket, the results are also pretty different with 27% of books on Kindle priced above $10 versus 40% on the Nook. 


These results suggest that customers have quite different book buying habits in these two ‘e-reader’ markets. It also points to a potential new culture for the Kindle in which customers tend to buy what is free or less than $2. As an author, this signals to me that if I was to go the ‘indie’ route, I would need to consider price very, very carefully indeed. 


The Booklr analysis indicates that the average price for a Kindle top 100 e-book is $6.48 compared with $8.94 for the Nook – which gives us a rough gauge of the price differential between customers for both platforms and opens up the debate over the impact of free and cheap (99c) e-books on overall pricing trends. 


So for all your authors considering the indie route, how are you approaching the issue of price? If you are traditionally published, what kind of price point has your publisher set for your e-book? And how much influence do you think Amazon is going to have on driving e-book prices down?

A New Definition of Writing Success

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“Rich are the records  . . . with stories of penniless authors, who, sick with hope so long deferred, and at last despairing, have resorted to wild and tragic devices . . .”
So begins a story in the Los Angeles Examiner,New Year’s Eve edition, December 31, 1905. The feature tells the tale of one such desperate author, a school teacher named Edith Allonby. For four years she’d labored on a novel, The Fulfilment [spelled with one “l”] into which she poured heart and soul. She had been published before, but her books had not been hits. The Fulfilment was going to change all that. In fact, Miss Allonby was certain its spiritual themes would change the world. (Indeed, she thought the book had been given to her by God, so the pressure was on).
But the book was rejected. First, by her own publisher. Then by all the other publishing houses she sent it to. “I have submitted my book to all these men,” she wrote in a note. “I have tried in vain. They will not accept it, yet shall ‘The Fulfilment’ reach the people to whom I appeal, for I have found another way.”
After finishing the note, Miss Allonby changed into a silk evening gown, put fresh flowers in her hair, and sat in a comfortable chair. She was found dead the next day, her manuscript on her lap and an empty bottle of carbolic acid at her side.

And so it has been for countless authors for hundreds of years. Not normally ending in suicide (though such cases exist) but often in frustration, depression and despair. (The Fulfilment, BTW, was published in a limited edition after Miss Allonby’s death).


There was one primary reason for all this distress: Their fate as writers was not in their own hands. To get anywhere close to “success” they had to be accepted by an established publishing house (which alone had the means to produce and distribute a book), and then hope that they earned some money for their efforts.
Those two things—acceptance and income—defined writing success. 
Included under “Getting Published,” we can list some ancillary things writers hope for. Like getting on a bestseller list. Perhaps being nominated (even winning) a prestigious award. Maybe just the feeling of being part of an exclusive club. 
But now we are experiencing a sea change on the other side of the diagram:

We all know the traditional model is shrinking. Advances on new contracts are at historic lows. With physical shelf-space disappearing, print revenues are down. While digital income is up for the publishers, the slice of that pie given to authors remains stagnated at 25% of net (or roughly 17.5% of retail). And new writers are finding publishers increasingly risk averse regarding debut authors.
Still, many writers remain focused on that left circle. It represents some sort of “validation” even though it could very well mean less income (the right circle) and fewer readers.
But now a new model of writing success has appeared. Writers, for the first time since the troubadour era (when you could go out on your own and make up stories in song and take in some coin), have it within their power to get their writing out there without a middleman (the fancy term is “disintermediation”).
And further, unlike self-published authors of yore, they actually have a chance to make real dough. Every day we are hearing more accounts of self-published writers who are earning significant income as independents.


Yet income alone is not the main draw of this new model, which looks like this:


Freedom is the invaluable commodity here. To be able to write what you truly want to write, and know that you can get it into the marketplace, is tremendously liberating. It is, in fact, the engine of happiness for a writer. It’s exhilarating to write for yourself, see what you’ve written, fix it, and keep on writing—and be assured that it will have a place in the stream of commerce, for as long as you live.


This does not mean that going the traditional route is a spurious view of “success.” If one seeks that validation, it’s there to be pursued. The point is, however, that it is no longer the only game in town. Which is why I am more jazzed about being a writer than ever. Not just because of increased production and income, but because of the freedom to take responsibility for my own work. 
Let me be quick to point out, however, that this responsibility carries challenges. Being in charge means you are CEO of your own company. You alone are in charge of quality control and production. You can expect to experience the stresses and strains of running a small business. You will need new skills to handle them. These can be acquired, but only through effort and self-discipline.
But it’s more than worth it to be holding the reins of your own writing and life. 
I think Miss Allonby would have felt that way, too. Had she been able to self-publish, she might have lived a long, full life. Maybe she’d have written many more books, grown a readership, and made some money, too.  


I can say this because, in one of life’s ironic and poignant turns, The Fulfilment by Edith Allonby is now available for the Kindle.
So how would you define success as a writer? 

A New Definition of Writing Success

Posted on by

“Rich are the records  . . . with stories of penniless authors, who, sick with hope so long deferred, and at last despairing, have resorted to wild and tragic devices . . .”
So begins a story in the Los Angeles Examiner,New Year’s Eve edition, December 31, 1905. The feature tells the tale of one such desperate author, a school teacher named Edith Allonby. For four years she’d labored on a novel, The Fulfilment [spelled with one “l”] into which she poured heart and soul. She had been published before, but her books had not been hits. The Fulfilment was going to change all that. In fact, Miss Allonby was certain its spiritual themes would change the world. (Indeed, she thought the book had been given to her by God, so the pressure was on).
But the book was rejected. First, by her own publisher. Then by all the other publishing houses she sent it to. “I have submitted my book to all these men,” she wrote in a note. “I have tried in vain. They will not accept it, yet shall ‘The Fulfilment’ reach the people to whom I appeal, for I have found another way.”
After finishing the note, Miss Allonby changed into a silk evening gown, put fresh flowers in her hair, and sat in a comfortable chair. She was found dead the next day, her manuscript on her lap and an empty bottle of carbolic acid at her side.

And so it has been for countless authors for hundreds of years. Not normally ending in suicide (though such cases exist) but often in frustration, depression and despair. (The Fulfilment, BTW, was published in a limited edition after Miss Allonby’s death).


There was one primary reason for all this distress: Their fate as writers was not in their own hands. To get anywhere close to “success” they had to be accepted by an established publishing house (which alone had the means to produce and distribute a book), and then hope that they earned some money for their efforts.
Those two things—acceptance and income—defined writing success. 
Included under “Getting Published,” we can list some ancillary things writers hope for. Like getting on a bestseller list. Perhaps being nominated (even winning) a prestigious award. Maybe just the feeling of being part of an exclusive club. 
But now we are experiencing a sea change on the other side of the diagram:

We all know the traditional model is shrinking. Advances on new contracts are at historic lows. With physical shelf-space disappearing, print revenues are down. While digital income is up for the publishers, the slice of that pie given to authors remains stagnated at 25% of net (or roughly 17.5% of retail). And new writers are finding publishers increasingly risk averse regarding debut authors.
Still, many writers remain focused on that left circle. It represents some sort of “validation” even though it could very well mean less income (the right circle) and fewer readers.
But now a new model of writing success has appeared. Writers, for the first time since the troubadour era (when you could go out on your own and make up stories in song and take in some coin), have it within their power to get their writing out there without a middleman (the fancy term is “disintermediation”).
And further, unlike self-published authors of yore, they actually have a chance to make real dough. Every day we are hearing more accounts of self-published writers who are earning significant income as independents.


Yet income alone is not the main draw of this new model, which looks like this:


Freedom is the invaluable commodity here. To be able to write what you truly want to write, and know that you can get it into the marketplace, is tremendously liberating. It is, in fact, the engine of happiness for a writer. It’s exhilarating to write for yourself, see what you’ve written, fix it, and keep on writing—and be assured that it will have a place in the stream of commerce, for as long as you live.


This does not mean that going the traditional route is a spurious view of “success.” If one seeks that validation, it’s there to be pursued. The point is, however, that it is no longer the only game in town. Which is why I am more jazzed about being a writer than ever. Not just because of increased production and income, but because of the freedom to take responsibility for my own work. 
Let me be quick to point out, however, that this responsibility carries challenges. Being in charge means you are CEO of your own company. You alone are in charge of quality control and production. You can expect to experience the stresses and strains of running a small business. You will need new skills to handle them. These can be acquired, but only through effort and self-discipline.
But it’s more than worth it to be holding the reins of your own writing and life. 
I think Miss Allonby would have felt that way, too. Had she been able to self-publish, she might have lived a long, full life. Maybe she’d have written many more books, grown a readership, and made some money, too.  


I can say this because, in one of life’s ironic and poignant turns, The Fulfilment by Edith Allonby is now available for the Kindle.
So how would you define success as a writer? 

You can’t teach a cat to sing or a dog to fly.

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John Ramsey Miller

I’m not here on every other Saturday to teach anybody how to write. Others here know the technicalities and can teach you or sell you books about the craft. I’m not blogging here to make what I do seem mysterious, or harder than it is, and it ain’t at all hard for a real writer. I’ll just say for you to keep your story moving. Make your characters real. Your style should be to write like you’d tell a story to an audience. Work hard to write a story you’d like to read. And think hard about your story before you write it down. That is all I can tell anyone. I expect that anything else I say is a rule is bullshit I’m making up. That’s all about it I actually know, I’ve read Elmore Leonard’s list and Stephen King’s book, and BIRD IN HAND, and I didn’t agree or disagree. That is what they think, or think they think or want me to think they think. The process is different for everybody. Some authors will say they have no idea how they do what they do. I think most famous authors are surprised they are famous for what they wrote.

I’m not in on any authoring secrets, and I worked the steps everybody has to work in order to be published, and I had no contacts in the writing community. I wasn’t discovered sitting in my studio by talent scouts, I worked damned hard. No known writer reached down, took my hand and dragged me to their publisher and demanded they publish me of they would take their money generating words elsewhere. So work your ass off or get away from this profession now.

If you can write a book that people will actually buy without being related to you, or your shamelessly flogging it to them in a crowded bar at Bouchercon, you are in the vast minority. I never say, “if I can do it anybody can,” because it is one of those things you either can or you can’t do. Anybody on earth can write badly and most do. I know high school dropouts who write brilliantly. I know learned writing professors whose books can suck lint off a cheap sweater at fifty yards. There are no shortcuts I can impart, or secrets to being published. Write a very good book and push it to the right people at the right time. I don’t know who that is, because it is different for every author. Hell, just publish it somewhere yourself and say you wrote a book. There are millions of people singing not very well on You Tube.

I didn’t set out to become an author. From an early age I wrote short stories, poems, and I did so for my own entertainment and as a way to express myself. People have always fascinated me. Stories fascinated me. I was blessed with a natural curiosity and being born in an interesting time and place. Writing found me the same way graphic art and photography did. I was interested in it and I did it for myself first. People I shared my stories with, enjoyed them. My advertising writing sold products. I wrote my first thriller without knowing it was a thriller, or what made any book a thriller. I wrote a fast moving story about violent and complex people. A very talented editor bought it and together we turned it into a very good book.

I have never read one page into a romance novel and I don’t ever intend to. I’ve had dear friends who write them, but I do not care to read any. I have friends who have never read any of my books, and in truth I could care less. Not that I think romance, mystery, or cozy authors have less talent, I’m just not into those genres. There are great writers in those genres and they have their readers, some legions of fans. Kumbaya moments bore me. I don’t like writing them.

My fans have strong stomachs. They like justice, the rougher the better. As far as I can tell, most of my fans are not violent people, but they like to read violence, and they like their violence accurate. The romance I write into my novels is that which is in me. You don’t stay married 35 years without some romance. My written romance isn’t necessarily sentimental, it’s a reflection of my affections and *effections. I can only write convincingly that which is within me.

If I think the story should go there, I will kill both cub scouts and cats without a second thought to the reader’s reaction. Some readers make the association that murdered fictional animals are the real ones they love, which isn’t my problem. The same readers could care less if I kill children. I don’t give a damn. I really don’t.

It is my opinion that most new Thrillers are that they are just rehashes or reshuffles of thrillers that came before them. I know that’s true with other genres as well. You can’t think of an original story because they have all been done. It is the rare twist that Thriller readers or writers don’t see coming before the writer thinks they will. A fresh new story gets harder to write all the time. Early Thriller writers had it good because that wasn’t yet true. Think of books like you might a gun. There are just so many places you can put the barrel. The barrel has to point forward else the shooter is in imminent danger of not living through the shooting experience. The bullet rests in the chamber, which has to be very precisely located behind the barrel. There are a finite number of firing pin, hammer and grip designs to be put with the barrel designs. There are just so many bullet calibers to be put into the mix. So any new gun has more to do with cobbling together varying design elements that have come before them than those that can come after. There will be ray guns and particle beam guns, but those will be less guns than machines that can do what a gun does, only better or differently. Maybe thrillers that are written so differently that they don’t just entertain, but maim or kill the reader as well.

I have been brutal to would-be authors whose work showed no inkling of talent at writing fiction. Other writers think I should encourage everybody who tries. Bullshit. If someone is wasting their time, they should know it so they can follow another dream, or perhaps start bending sheet metal into ducts that might prove useful. It is hard enough when you have some talent or even some mechanical ability with words. If you can’t write fiction, you can become a technical writer, or write non-fiction. But if you can’t write on a fundamental level… Ok, so who am I to judge. I don’t like hurting feelings or dashing dreams. I never asked to be put in a position to judge ability, but when I’m asked to judge, I do. Don’t want to hear it, don’t friggin’ ask. That’s certainly cool with me.

I am not a drum major for deluded people who only dream of being authors to prove something to themselves, to make a quick fortune, to impress their friends, or to allow their egos to bloom. I feel sorry for people who truly love books and have a real desire to contribute their own visions to literature, all the while knowing that is as impossible as me becoming American Idol. Delusions should not be fed, else you’ll have people going postal all over the country. So I like to imagine I’m saving lives by being critical.

Nothing pleases me more than seeing raw talent. If someone has that, I always do my best to encourage and help them any way I can.

You can’t teach a cat to sing or a dog to fly.

Posted on by

John Ramsey Miller

I’m not here on every other Saturday to teach anybody how to write. Others here know the technicalities and can teach you or sell you books about the craft. I’m not blogging here to make what I do seem mysterious, or harder than it is, and it ain’t at all hard for a real writer. I’ll just say for you to keep your story moving. Make your characters real. Your style should be to write like you’d tell a story to an audience. Work hard to write a story you’d like to read. And think hard about your story before you write it down. That is all I can tell anyone. I expect that anything else I say is a rule is bullshit I’m making up. That’s all about it I actually know, I’ve read Elmore Leonard’s list and Stephen King’s book, and BIRD IN HAND, and I didn’t agree or disagree. That is what they think, or think they think or want me to think they think. The process is different for everybody. Some authors will say they have no idea how they do what they do. I think most famous authors are surprised they are famous for what they wrote.

I’m not in on any authoring secrets, and I worked the steps everybody has to work in order to be published, and I had no contacts in the writing community. I wasn’t discovered sitting in my studio by talent scouts, I worked damned hard. No known writer reached down, took my hand and dragged me to their publisher and demanded they publish me of they would take their money generating words elsewhere. So work your ass off or get away from this profession now.

If you can write a book that people will actually buy without being related to you, or your shamelessly flogging it to them in a crowded bar at Bouchercon, you are in the vast minority. I never say, “if I can do it anybody can,” because it is one of those things you either can or you can’t do. Anybody on earth can write badly and most do. I know high school dropouts who write brilliantly. I know learned writing professors whose books can suck lint off a cheap sweater at fifty yards. There are no shortcuts I can impart, or secrets to being published. Write a very good book and push it to the right people at the right time. I don’t know who that is, because it is different for every author. Hell, just publish it somewhere yourself and say you wrote a book. There are millions of people singing not very well on You Tube.

I didn’t set out to become an author. From an early age I wrote short stories, poems, and I did so for my own entertainment and as a way to express myself. People have always fascinated me. Stories fascinated me. I was blessed with a natural curiosity and being born in an interesting time and place. Writing found me the same way graphic art and photography did. I was interested in it and I did it for myself first. People I shared my stories with, enjoyed them. My advertising writing sold products. I wrote my first thriller without knowing it was a thriller, or what made any book a thriller. I wrote a fast moving story about violent and complex people. A very talented editor bought it and together we turned it into a very good book.

I have never read one page into a romance novel and I don’t ever intend to. I’ve had dear friends who write them, but I do not care to read any. I have friends who have never read any of my books, and in truth I could care less. Not that I think romance, mystery, or cozy authors have less talent, I’m just not into those genres. There are great writers in those genres and they have their readers, some legions of fans. Kumbaya moments bore me. I don’t like writing them.

My fans have strong stomachs. They like justice, the rougher the better. As far as I can tell, most of my fans are not violent people, but they like to read violence, and they like their violence accurate. The romance I write into my novels is that which is in me. You don’t stay married 35 years without some romance. My written romance isn’t necessarily sentimental, it’s a reflection of my affections and *effections. I can only write convincingly that which is within me.

If I think the story should go there, I will kill both cub scouts and cats without a second thought to the reader’s reaction. Some readers make the association that murdered fictional animals are the real ones they love, which isn’t my problem. The same readers could care less if I kill children. I don’t give a damn. I really don’t.

It is my opinion that most new Thrillers are that they are just rehashes or reshuffles of thrillers that came before them. I know that’s true with other genres as well. You can’t think of an original story because they have all been done. It is the rare twist that Thriller readers or writers don’t see coming before the writer thinks they will. A fresh new story gets harder to write all the time. Early Thriller writers had it good because that wasn’t yet true. Think of books like you might a gun. There are just so many places you can put the barrel. The barrel has to point forward else the shooter is in imminent danger of not living through the shooting experience. The bullet rests in the chamber, which has to be very precisely located behind the barrel. There are a finite number of firing pin, hammer and grip designs to be put with the barrel designs. There are just so many bullet calibers to be put into the mix. So any new gun has more to do with cobbling together varying design elements that have come before them than those that can come after. There will be ray guns and particle beam guns, but those will be less guns than machines that can do what a gun does, only better or differently. Maybe thrillers that are written so differently that they don’t just entertain, but maim or kill the reader as well.

I have been brutal to would-be authors whose work showed no inkling of talent at writing fiction. Other writers think I should encourage everybody who tries. Bullshit. If someone is wasting their time, they should know it so they can follow another dream, or perhaps start bending sheet metal into ducts that might prove useful. It is hard enough when you have some talent or even some mechanical ability with words. If you can’t write fiction, you can become a technical writer, or write non-fiction. But if you can’t write on a fundamental level… Ok, so who am I to judge. I don’t like hurting feelings or dashing dreams. I never asked to be put in a position to judge ability, but when I’m asked to judge, I do. Don’t want to hear it, don’t friggin’ ask. That’s certainly cool with me.

I am not a drum major for deluded people who only dream of being authors to prove something to themselves, to make a quick fortune, to impress their friends, or to allow their egos to bloom. I feel sorry for people who truly love books and have a real desire to contribute their own visions to literature, all the while knowing that is as impossible as me becoming American Idol. Delusions should not be fed, else you’ll have people going postal all over the country. So I like to imagine I’m saving lives by being critical.

Nothing pleases me more than seeing raw talent. If someone has that, I always do my best to encourage and help them any way I can.

Lesson From Gun Camp

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Last week, I wrote a teaser blog about some firearms training I was to receive while pulling duty as a VIP guest of 5.11 Tactical at the SHOT Show in Las Vegas.  First a few words about the SHOT Show: Holy Cow!  You have to see this thing to understand the size.  It takes up the ENTIRE Sands Convention Center, occupying all three floors.  Every conceivable manufacturer of any firearm is there, and while they cannot sell to individuals from the floor, you are perfectly welcome to handle any weapon you want, up to and including dry firing it.  (The Las Vegas Police Department checked every single one of the thousands of firearms there to verify that the firing pins had been removed.)  Never held an M4 or a Glock or a 1911?  You can play with them.  Ditto the Barrett .50 caliber sniper rifle, the M2 “Ma Deuce” .50 cal machine gun and a Dillon Gun.  It’s the mother of all gun research opportunities, and EVERYONE I spoke to was more than willing to chat about their products.  What I found most stunning was the number of firearms makers that I’d never heard of.
Last Thursday, I met Jeffery Deaver in the lobby of our hotel at 6:45 a.m.  We were driven a half hour out into the desert to a shooting range that looked like it covered twenty or thirty acres.  We were driven way to the back of the facility, where I realized for the first time that Jeff and I would be the only students for the entire day.
Our instructor was Steve Tarani.  Look him up.  Yeah, he’s qualified.  And he’s very, very funny, in that zero-bullshit kind of way.  After an extensive safety briefing, we were issued our .40 caliber Glocks, holsters and three mags of ammunition.  (A million thanks to Barry, who made sure that we always had a 12-round mag ready to go so that our pouches were never dry.)  Jeff drew a thigh rig holster, while my holster rode on my belt.  As an aside, the 5.11 Tactical pants we wore were specifically designed with an extra belt loop that keeps a belt holster from moving around.  I like that kind of attention to details.
For the next three hours, we shot hundreds of rounds of ammunition, first while standing still, but then while moving and turning.  Finally, we were shooting from the driver’s and passenger’s seats of an SUV (a late model Acura that did not belong to either student).  The day ended with a quick-draw contest and an NSR (non-standard response) drill that involves  shooting everything in the mag at short range, as quickly as possible while still hitting center of mass on the target.  As Steve made clear from the very beginning, this was a tactical shooting class, not a marksmanship class (although I did pretty well in that department, too.)
Lesson One: Tactical shooting is only a distant cousin of target shooting.  Until this lesson, my range training had consisted of picking a weapon up from a table, taking my time and concentrating on placing shots in the center ring.  I’d never drawn a pistol from a holster and just that much movement changes the game.  Throw in multiple points of impact on the target (we’d be instructed, for example, to put two in the chest, one in the pelvis and one in the forehead–not the jaw, though) and now you’ve got more to think about and more to do.  By the time you’re pivoting and turning and throwing open the car door while drawing your weapon without ever pointing it at your own leg or anywhere near your partner, it’s tough to get your rounds downrange to the target.  And very, very fun.
Lesson Two: My grip was AFU.  This one’s hard to describe without specific pictures, but my hands didn’t have enough contact with the gun.  I was also using an out-of-date and out-of-favor shooting stance called the Weaver Stance, in which my support side leg (my left, since I’m right-handed) was slightly forward.  I’ve never been entirely comfortable with that stance.  In my new Isosceles Stance (or “Tony Chin” stance), I square off at the bad guy with my toes, knees and chin touching the same vertical plane–Toe-Knee-Chin.  Tony Chin.  Get it?
Lesson Three: It’s disconcerting how much of one’s own body can become a target when drawing a weapon.  Think about your free hand, for example.  Given that one of Steve’s Four Golden Rules is that the muzzle never cover anything that you don’t want to completely destroy, that free support hand needs to be anchored somewhere when the pistol is coming out of the holster.  I learned to place it on my chest, where not only is it out of harm’s way, but it’s also ready to do its job in supporting the shooting hand.
Lesson Four: I was a “booger flipper,” Steve’s term for one who lets one’s finger off the trigger after every shot.  If you watch what that looks like, booger flipping really does come to mind.  I learned in the early part of the class to hold the trigger all the way to the back of the trigger guard after the first shot, and then let it up only to the reset click to prepare for the next shot.  It takes far less pull, and increases accuracy by a lot.  After a few hundred rounds, it was second nature.
Lesson Five: It’s stressful as hell to run out of ammo in the middle of a drill.  Running out when the target is shooting back must be really unnerving.  Steve taught us to drop the spent mag and slap in the new one while never taking our eyes off the target.  Truth be told, this was my hardest lesson to learn.  My thumbs are too short to reach the mag release without shifting my grip.  I sorta got the hang of it in the end, but it’s really hard not to look.  After a couple dozen tactical reloads in which we let the spent mags just drop to the ground, we even changed it up to replace a partially-spent mag with a full one, in which case we needed to put the old mag back into the pouch after reloading while still staying on the target.
Lesson Six:  If you own a gun, you really need to practice this stuff.  In just three hours–and about 200 bucks in ammo (Thank you again, 5.11 Tactical!)–so many of the tiny details became second nature.  Even the simple act of reholstering has its complex parts.  In Steve’s class, after the threat is cleared, you sweep left, sweep right, then return to low-ready before you put that support hand back on your chest to get it out of the way, and then slide the weapon back into the holster.  We did that every single time we reholstered, even if we hadn’t fired a shot, and by the end of the training, doing things otherwise would have just felt wrong.
As I write this, I realize how long the post is, and how few of the lessons learned I can actually document here.  My big take away was this: As a guy who’s always liked guns and has played with them a lot over the years, I in fact knew nothing.  Now, after this experience, I’m fully aware of the fact that I still know way too little, and that much of what I did learn will disappear from my muscle memory in just a day or two.  I need to find a range that will let me move and shoot.
The world is full of five-day classes on this stuff, and I’m seriously thinking about taking one.  How about a Killzone field trip for a week at Sleep-Away Gun Camp?  That could be fun.

Lesson From Gun Camp

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Last week, I wrote a teaser blog about some firearms training I was to receive while pulling duty as a VIP guest of 5.11 Tactical at the SHOT Show in Las Vegas.  First a few words about the SHOT Show: Holy Cow!  You have to see this thing to understand the size.  It takes up the ENTIRE Sands Convention Center, occupying all three floors.  Every conceivable manufacturer of any firearm is there, and while they cannot sell to individuals from the floor, you are perfectly welcome to handle any weapon you want, up to and including dry firing it.  (The Las Vegas Police Department checked every single one of the thousands of firearms there to verify that the firing pins had been removed.)  Never held an M4 or a Glock or a 1911?  You can play with them.  Ditto the Barrett .50 caliber sniper rifle, the M2 “Ma Deuce” .50 cal machine gun and a Dillon Gun.  It’s the mother of all gun research opportunities, and EVERYONE I spoke to was more than willing to chat about their products.  What I found most stunning was the number of firearms makers that I’d never heard of.
Last Thursday, I met Jeffery Deaver in the lobby of our hotel at 6:45 a.m.  We were driven a half hour out into the desert to a shooting range that looked like it covered twenty or thirty acres.  We were driven way to the back of the facility, where I realized for the first time that Jeff and I would be the only students for the entire day.
Our instructor was Steve Tarani.  Look him up.  Yeah, he’s qualified.  And he’s very, very funny, in that zero-bullshit kind of way.  After an extensive safety briefing, we were issued our .40 caliber Glocks, holsters and three mags of ammunition.  (A million thanks to Barry, who made sure that we always had a 12-round mag ready to go so that our pouches were never dry.)  Jeff drew a thigh rig holster, while my holster rode on my belt.  As an aside, the 5.11 Tactical pants we wore were specifically designed with an extra belt loop that keeps a belt holster from moving around.  I like that kind of attention to details.
For the next three hours, we shot hundreds of rounds of ammunition, first while standing still, but then while moving and turning.  Finally, we were shooting from the driver’s and passenger’s seats of an SUV (a late model Acura that did not belong to either student).  The day ended with a quick-draw contest and an NSR (non-standard response) drill that involves  shooting everything in the mag at short range, as quickly as possible while still hitting center of mass on the target.  As Steve made clear from the very beginning, this was a tactical shooting class, not a marksmanship class (although I did pretty well in that department, too.)
Lesson One: Tactical shooting is only a distant cousin of target shooting.  Until this lesson, my range training had consisted of picking a weapon up from a table, taking my time and concentrating on placing shots in the center ring.  I’d never drawn a pistol from a holster and just that much movement changes the game.  Throw in multiple points of impact on the target (we’d be instructed, for example, to put two in the chest, one in the pelvis and one in the forehead–not the jaw, though) and now you’ve got more to think about and more to do.  By the time you’re pivoting and turning and throwing open the car door while drawing your weapon without ever pointing it at your own leg or anywhere near your partner, it’s tough to get your rounds downrange to the target.  And very, very fun.
Lesson Two: My grip was AFU.  This one’s hard to describe without specific pictures, but my hands didn’t have enough contact with the gun.  I was also using an out-of-date and out-of-favor shooting stance called the Weaver Stance, in which my support side leg (my left, since I’m right-handed) was slightly forward.  I’ve never been entirely comfortable with that stance.  In my new Isosceles Stance (or “Tony Chin” stance), I square off at the bad guy with my toes, knees and chin touching the same vertical plane–Toe-Knee-Chin.  Tony Chin.  Get it?
Lesson Three: It’s disconcerting how much of one’s own body can become a target when drawing a weapon.  Think about your free hand, for example.  Given that one of Steve’s Four Golden Rules is that the muzzle never cover anything that you don’t want to completely destroy, that free support hand needs to be anchored somewhere when the pistol is coming out of the holster.  I learned to place it on my chest, where not only is it out of harm’s way, but it’s also ready to do its job in supporting the shooting hand.
Lesson Four: I was a “booger flipper,” Steve’s term for one who lets one’s finger off the trigger after every shot.  If you watch what that looks like, booger flipping really does come to mind.  I learned in the early part of the class to hold the trigger all the way to the back of the trigger guard after the first shot, and then let it up only to the reset click to prepare for the next shot.  It takes far less pull, and increases accuracy by a lot.  After a few hundred rounds, it was second nature.
Lesson Five: It’s stressful as hell to run out of ammo in the middle of a drill.  Running out when the target is shooting back must be really unnerving.  Steve taught us to drop the spent mag and slap in the new one while never taking our eyes off the target.  Truth be told, this was my hardest lesson to learn.  My thumbs are too short to reach the mag release without shifting my grip.  I sorta got the hang of it in the end, but it’s really hard not to look.  After a couple dozen tactical reloads in which we let the spent mags just drop to the ground, we even changed it up to replace a partially-spent mag with a full one, in which case we needed to put the old mag back into the pouch after reloading while still staying on the target.
Lesson Six:  If you own a gun, you really need to practice this stuff.  In just three hours–and about 200 bucks in ammo (Thank you again, 5.11 Tactical!)–so many of the tiny details became second nature.  Even the simple act of reholstering has its complex parts.  In Steve’s class, after the threat is cleared, you sweep left, sweep right, then return to low-ready before you put that support hand back on your chest to get it out of the way, and then slide the weapon back into the holster.  We did that every single time we reholstered, even if we hadn’t fired a shot, and by the end of the training, doing things otherwise would have just felt wrong.
As I write this, I realize how long the post is, and how few of the lessons learned I can actually document here.  My big take away was this: As a guy who’s always liked guns and has played with them a lot over the years, I in fact knew nothing.  Now, after this experience, I’m fully aware of the fact that I still know way too little, and that much of what I did learn will disappear from my muscle memory in just a day or two.  I need to find a range that will let me move and shoot.
The world is full of five-day classes on this stuff, and I’m seriously thinking about taking one.  How about a Killzone field trip for a week at Sleep-Away Gun Camp?  That could be fun.